The clattering sounds of early morning street activity
snapped Rayne to the reality of his situation. In the dim
light he scanned the open pages of the ledger. Doc was
spot on as he targeted 1876, the original Roxieland plant.
Doc's revelation that there was no way back had so
stunned him that the practicality of his situation
was only gradually being acknowledged by his
time-traveled brain. Using the well disguised pocket
flashlight he had packed in his bag, he hand-copied to
his small notebook the Roxie formula, so he could replace
it in the safe. He did the same for some employee records,
to help him fill in the documents he and Doc had crafted
for him.
Since the consequences of changing history had been
well-implanted in his brain by his mentor, Rayne knew
that replacing the formula was essential. He gathered up
the Roxie empties and the caps he had left scattered,
carefully closed the safe, packed a few bottles of Roxie
in his canvas bag, and eased himself back out the rear
window he had entered.
It mattered not to him at that moment whether Doc
might join him someday or invent a way to return,
for he had to fit in right then, in his new present.
It mattered how he introduced himself, where he
would work, where he would live, of necessity,
close to his landing location.
"Hey, get out of the way," a driver yelled at him
from his perch atop the wagon. "Sorry," Rayne
hollered back as he dodged the horses.
"Nothing like calling attention to myself," muttered
Rayne. He remembered the mock situations he and
Doc had worked out, depending on his destination.
It was always identity papers, exchanging currency,
a place to live. Too early for the financial district,
didn't want to risk attention by attempting to pay
with one of the gold coins Doc had packed in his
bag, so a restaurant was out of the question.
He sat down on a bench outside the hardware store
that had been his arrival point.
"Time for a Roxie," he smiled to himself.
"What's this?"He had found Doc's travel
formula bars, rich with nuts and seeds,
and settled back to watch the increasing
traffic, eating his first meal in 1876.
He realized how lucky he was that the business
district was filled with a variety of buildings,
all coming alive as early morning employees
entered; so much activity, so many people that
he did not stand out.
The clothing he had packed would suit a day laborer,
perhaps a job at Roxie, or in the busy garment industry.
His skills acquired beyond his BA degree in history and
English literature included all those an inventor might
want, construction, as for doc's new lab addition,
chemistry and mechanics.
"Man," he almost laughed out loud, "Could I advance
the transportation industry...fast! The image of his yellow
‘55 Chevy flashed thru his mind. And, for the first time
in this adventure, he thought about leaving the picture
on the front seat, her picture that still caused an ache
in his heart.
Then he thought of his favorite Levi's he had insisted
on bringing. Doc warned him, "Son, old Levi was only
producing on the West coast. How are you going to
explain them?"
Rayne imagined opening his own business, manufacturing
his East coast version. But first he had to concoct
a believable story about the coins, his inheritance
from his great grandfather, perhaps, then open
an account, make a deposit, and come out with
usable currency.
Finally relaxing a bit, thinking he had a plan, Rayne
stretched his legs out in front of him. A flurry of skirts,
grocery sacks, arms and legs crashed his reverie.
"You oaf," she screamed, as Rayne tried to catch
the falling disaster!
"Oh, I am so sorry, but you walked right over me,"
he said apologetically, attempting to keep her from
hitting the walkway, apples, oranges, potatoes,
green topped carrots and butcher wrapped packages
flying in every direction!
"Look what you've done," she exclaimed, finally
up righting herself and looking him in the face.
Rayne looked down at her, as he attempted to
hold on to the sacks not yet emptied.
"I, um, you, I, um, well," he stammered, red-faced
and unbelieving.
"Well, haven't you ever seen a woman in distress
before?" she said, not able to control the smile
forming on her lips.
Rayne opened his mouth and tried to form words,
"Yes, yes, yes, I have seen you before." He moved
automatically, picking up the loose produce.
"Where you come from, do you go around tripping
women," she smiled, even more broadly. And what
do you mean, you have seen me? I don't remember
you!"
Rayne's heart pounded so loudly he was sure she
could hear it. He knew he had to find out more
about her. He couldn't let HER walk away.
"Let me help you," he said trying to regain his
composure."I'll take these heavier bags. You
lead the way," he said cagily. He had to know
where she lived. Dare he ask her name?
Thoughts raced in his head.
Several blocks off the main business district,
they arrived at a large white house with an
inviting front porch. In the window, a sign stated,
"Room and Board, Gents Only."
The door was opened by a woman with a big smile
on her face, graying hair piled on top her head,
a crisp white apron tied on over her dress.
"M'darlin' daughter, have you brought
us a new boarder?" she queried. "Are you
from around here, young man?"
Rayne hesitated, "Well, yes, you could say that
I'm from around here. I'm really a traveling man.
But I do need a place to stay." Synchronicity,
he thought, the gods of time travelers looking out
for him. It all seemed so real. But was it all
really happening? He certainly wasn't dreaming.
The darlin' daughter gestured for Rayne to mount
the porch stairs.
Inside the house, a voice boomed, "Well, saints
and begorah, woman, invite him in." Coming to
the door, a man with a thick thatch of white hair,
the image of Doc.
Rayne felt faint. Time travel? Or perhaps,
even more disconcerting...
AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE!
To be continued...
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
y
He meets a beautiful lady and it takes the old doc to make him light headed...that boy just ain't right! 
